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Purcell came and
poured it out for them.
"Quite like the days when we went gypsying," said she, when near its
conclusion.
"We have just come from the Bawn, Miss Marguerite and I," he replied.
"You have? I never go near it. Did it break your heart?"
Mr. Raleigh laughed.
"Is Mr. Raleigh's heart such a delicate organ?" asked Marguerite.
"Once, you might have been answered negatively; now, it must be like the
French banner, _perce, troue, crible,"--
"Pray, add the remainder of your quotation," said he,--"_sans peur et
sans reproche_."
"So that a trifle would reduce it to flinders," said Mrs. Purcell,
without minding his interruption.
"Would you give it such a character, Miss Rite?" questioned Mr. Raleigh
lightly.
"I? I don't see that you have any heart at all, Sir."
"I swallow my tea and my mortification."
"Do you remember your first repast at the Bawn?" asked Mrs. Purcell.
"Why not?"
"And the jelly like molten rubies that I made? It keeps well." And she
moved a glittering dish toward him.


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